


The Joke, You See, Was Always On Me

by LaneyBoggs



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Internal Conflict, Joker (DCU) Backstory, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaneyBoggs/pseuds/LaneyBoggs
Summary: Arthur Fleck begins a transformation.





	The Joke, You See, Was Always On Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the Joker trailer and other information about the movie that Warner Bros. has released. Because of that, it'll probably diverge heavily from the final film. Regardless, I'm always open to suggestions for future chapters. 
> 
> Additionally, tags will probably change depending on what content ends up in each new update.

Had an origin story ever truly been the origin of anything? Or was it simply the moment when the person involved finally realized the meaning of his or her life, the culmination of the path that destiny had laid out for them from the moment of conception? For was there ever an origin story that had not begun in childhood, in the seed of the development of a skill or the flowering of a desire?

In the neglect of a caretaker?

The lust for normalcy?

The punchline of a joke?

It was this idea that Arthur Fleck reflected on as he lay in bed and watched the sun rise over the city skyline. He was a sign-twirler during the day, a deal-hawking clown. At night, however, when the deal-seekers had left the streets and the club microphones were opened, he was a comedian.

An aspiring comedian, he amended to himself. Aspiring was the operative word. He had been aspiring since the first day he had watched Murray Franklin deliver his nightly monologue on his mother's fuzzy black-and-white. He had laughed along with the studio audience, his mother mumbling in the background, and he had known then that he would have one single goal for the rest of his life.

He had heard about the so-called overnight successes, the men who had paid their dues in clubs and on variety shows until they received Franklin's benevolent invitation. Many people would call the invitation the origin, the start of the story, but Arthur knew that those men had built upon their dreams and failures for years before finally becoming the people they were meant to be.

He rolled away from the too-bright rays and allowed himself to indulge in one of his favorite fantasies -- he, Arthur, would receive that call from Franklin. He would get up on-stage, make a stunning comedic debut, and, as the crowd cheered, Franklin would rise from his seat and heartily embrace him.

He would be a mentor, a guardian, a father figure.

Arthur had never known his father. Sometimes, in a quiet, hopeful, child-corner in his mind, he thought that maybe it was Murray Franklin himself. 

It would not have been impossible. As Thomas Wayne's secretary, his mother would have come into contact with all kinds of famous and important people. Franklin would have been younger, but still successful, still right at the beginning of his show's ascendancy.

He sometimes pictured them meeting in a hotel somewhere -- a tasteful, wealthy haven. They would speak, perhaps share a drink. At some point, Murray would invite his mother to a hotel room.

It was necessary, if only briefly, to imagine his conception. His mother and Franklin, tangled together, him on top of her. His mother would have probably been shy -- she would have been younger than Franklin, sweet, inexperienced. Afterward, Murray would have held her close and made her giggle.

The next morning, who knew? He had to leave, her boss needed her, they parted before they could exchange any hope of finding one another again. His mother, resigned. Later, him.

Most of him knew that it was a ridiculous, juvenile hope. But, as he pulled back the blanket and felt another hard, forced laugh push through his throat and past his lips, he allowed his mind to briefly capture the images.

It was morning in Gotham, and everyone needed something to get through the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, request, condemn me to hell, etc., etc.


End file.
